Weight of the World
by Amends to the Living
Summary: "Maura didn't say a word. Not when she draped the coat over Jane's slightly slumped shoulders that had been carrying the weight of the world all day, nor when her hand slipped perfectly into the other." Rizzles. Two-shot.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** I still don't own anything... yet. I mean, those Team Jane and Team Maura shirts look pretty epic. So I might own those someday, but nothing else.

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><p>After working a grueling 72-hour straight shift, Jane Rizzoli tried to rub the sleep out of her overtired eyes, before lifting her chin and peering over her computer monitor to see Maura Isles standing patiently by the exit.<p>

A coat was draped carefully over her bent arm—one that was clearly a few sizes too large for the M.E.—and there was a gentle smile curving her lips. The detective's dark brown eyes couldn't help but follow the blonde's profile lower. She took a moment to appreciate her calves and those expensive but completely _necessary_ heels on her feet, before letting out a deep exhale and pushing back from her desk.

Jane couldn't feel her feet, but soon they were moving of their own accord, somehow still maintaining some sort of swagger in her step…

Well, maybe it was more of a precarious sway, but hey.

Maura didn't say a word. Not when she draped the coat over Jane's slightly slumped shoulders that had been carrying the weight of the world all day, nor when her hand slipped perfectly into the other and they entwined their fingers.

There was a comfortable silence between them as they flagged down a taxi, both far too exhausted to drive.

Then Jane felt her cellphone vibrating in her pocket, mumbling incoherently as she pulled it out to look at the screen. There were four missed calls from Ma that she didn't plan on answering until she could form full sentences. Maybe if she just closed her eyes for a minute…

Maura mirrored her actions, checking her own phone but finding nothing that needed immediate attention. That might also have something to do with her inbox being 60 percent full with texts from Jane. Most of them were short and only required minor research on modern day acronyms, but they were preferable to twitter.

See, Maura could not fathom how someone could honestly answer a question in less than 150 characters. It was limiting and almost like just an excuse to constantly cut responses short. And as much as she disliked guessing, she knew that she would only end up telling what Jane had once referred to as 'a little white lie.'

"Son of a—"

Jane's dark eyes flashed open at the cab driver's obscenities, turning her head to see the disapproving wrinkles forming on the bridge of the medical examiner's nose. She chuckled despite herself, even when the driver got off to check the tires, knowing that this wasn't a funny situation. But she was so passed tired that Jane couldn't really find it in herself to behave.

Maura quirked a brow towards the detective, though her lips betrayed her faux sternness when they curved into a gentle smile. There was just something about seeing Jane happy that made her feel good. She could try to pinpoint _exactly_ why that was or over-analyze it to death (now there's a concept), but her mind was blank and all she could see was Jane…

Overtired, chuckling Jane, who was about 24 hours from starting to see delusions.

"I love these shoes," the blonde offered with a lippy pout, knowing that walking all the way home would ruin them, even if they weren't that far away.

"C'mon," Jane said gently as she got out of the cab, going around to the front to pay the driver their fee for the trip so far, before opening Maura's door and extending her hand.

The sun was just starting to descend in the sky, hiding behind skyscrapers and the lush vegetation that Jo Friday enjoyed so much. Well, a little _too much_, if you asked a pair of Jane's old running shoes. Under the veil of dusk, Jane's dark tresses framed her face in such a way that she looked absolutely radiant.

"Are you going to proceed by carrying me all the way there, detective?"

Jane chuckled again, satisfying Maura's hidden agenda to lift her spirits, before shaking her head a little in mock disbelief as they took to the sidewalk. It was unclear who was leaning on whom by this point, but they managed to fall into step. It was almost like two people had become one.

They both lifted their gaze to look towards a graveyard, a solemn look crossing each of their faces. Working with homicide meant that there was always a casualty. Death was always the beginning of their day and they had to work backwards in order to find out what happened.

So there was never a chance of saving the victim lying on Maura's observation table, but they could hope to find them justice in their memory.

The M.E. felt more than saw Jane flinch internally as she pulled her hand away, rubbing at her palms subconsciously while she created distance between them. Maura knew that she could easily close the physical gap that had just formed, but she still wouldn't _reach_ Jane now. No, the brunette was somewhere that she couldn't follow and all she could do was wait…

Well, maybe there was one more thing.

Maura moved to stand in front of Jane, blocking her view from the tombstones and the withering flowers dropping petals on the soil.

Emerald green met dark brown and spoke volumes, a slight head tilt signaling the words resting on the tip of her tongue as she waited patiently for a sign to release them into the world where they shared the same air. Breaths mingled and heartbeats fell back into sync. A simple nod from Jane granted her entrance to this private moment.

"Guilt: the subjective feeling of having committed an error, offense, or sin."

As grim as the subject was, Jane dealt with macabre events everyday. And when she did go home to catch a few winks of sleep in between shifts, reminders were usually plastered all over the papers and the television. Even her mother would talk about the dangers of it in great detail, using the same recycled arguments to try to get her out of her career.

So Maura's statement wasn't as left field as it seemed. The fact that it was _so distinctly Maura_ just further proved her theory that the honey blonde was the most stable, unchanging factor in her life and that's exactly what she needed. Someone who knew exactly what she was feeling without being told. Someone that she didn't have to hide the facts of her gruesome cases from, even when they hit close to home. Someone who just understood.

Without preamble, Jane slipped her hand back into Maura's and gave it a gentle squeeze, before they were on their way again.


	2. Chapter 2

When they arrived at Jane's apartment, Maura lingered by the doorway with a curious look on her face as Jane walked right passed her and further into the living room.

It had been remodeled after several break-ins, but the essential centerpieces of the room were still there, including a keyboard. It wasn't exactly a Steinway Grand Piano—because although Maura could easily afford it, Jane would only claim that she didn't want something that could feed a third world country—but it was decent and it didn't create much clutter.

Pulling out the small black bench that had been tucked underneath the stand, Jane sat down and allowed her hands to hover over the keys for a moment, relishing in the feel of just her fingertips grazing over ivory and black. It had probably been _years_ since she last played anything, but she was counting on the whole 'riding a bike' saying. And hopefully that even after all this time, she was still a legit player.

Maura tilted her head slightly with her honey blonde tresses swaying at the gesture, before taking a few more steps inside and closing the door behind her. She had always seen the instrument sitting around in the apartment, but had never thought to ask Jane why it was there. It wasn't a matter of not being open with one another; it was just a lapse in remembering to do so.

The logical answer would be that Jane played the instrument, but the brunette always seemed so adamant about shying away from the finer things in life…

Except for Maura, of course. She was an exception to the rule.

Jane tested out a few keys, before trying to remember scales and notes. Highs and lows. Quarter notes, half notes, and all the other ambiguous symbols that always irritated the hell out of her. For a moment, she almost felt like she was a kid again and she immediately corrected her posture, sitting upright and lifting her wrists off of their resting place on edge of the instrument.

But now when she looked down at her hands, the scars reminded her that this was a different day and age.

She wasn't a little girl anymore and she had faced her share of evils. Some of them never left her alone, not even when she left the precinct. They followed her home and camped out in her mind, reappearing as nightmares or premonitions of some sort (which Maura still refused to acknowledge as some sort of super power, sadly).

Sometimes she felt broken, unworthy, and sought comfort in throwing something halfway across the elevator just to feel the adrenaline rush.

Other times she felt empowered by the sight of another scumbag behind bars, knowing that she did her part to put him there.

"Play something," came the soft, but curious voice from the one person whom Jane could never deny anything. So she scooted over and made some room for the blonde, who eagerly took her usual spot by her side. Maura reached over to place her hands over the scars, covering them from Jane's view and further coaxing her out of her shell, while also being close enough to offer the body warmth that sealed the deal.

Taking in a deep breath, Jane's fingertips finally struck the keys and pressed down more forcefully as she played _Piano Sonata No. 2_.

It was a vague recognition at first that tapped at Maura's subconscious. But the inside joke wasn't lost on the coroner, who quickly flashed her pearly whites and giggled at Jane's antics. It was also known as Chopin's _Funeral March_, which just so happened to be her specially assigned ringtone.

The detective's sense of humor was one of the many things that Maura enjoyed about the other woman's company, although she didn't always understand it without some research first.

Their hands moved perfectly in sync, although the blonde's pair were only partially draped over the other and never pressed down, allowing themselves to be guided along without interfering. Maura couldn't help but see the correlation between the simple movement and the strong, steady foundation of any relationship. However, she tried not to let her mind run too far ahead, not wanting to miss Jane's performance.

She knew that it would take another tedious case like this one to see this side of her again. But she was fine with that. See, there are many sides to Jane Rizzoli and she planned to meet every single one of them, no matter how long it took.

So when Jane was finished and she turned her head to speak, Maura found herself holding her breath, for no other reason than to capture this moment in her mind's eye. She half-expected another witty remark or a confirmation that it was indeed the same tune as her ringtone, which would put her logical, perfectionist mind at ease.

"Redemption: the action of saving or being saved from sin, error, or evil."

And once again, she was right. Staring back into those soulful dark brown eyes that held a certain gaze only for her, so full of love and trust, she was sure of it. That although science continued to advance and change everyday, one fact would always hold true:

Jane Rizzoli never stopped surprising her.


End file.
